


It's a Special Kind of Thing (A Happiness Is Remix)

by LadySilver



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 00:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1569146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySilver/pseuds/LadySilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Angel remembered being happy was also the first time he truly understood sin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Special Kind of Thing (A Happiness Is Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevendeadlyfun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevendeadlyfun/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Five Times Angel was happy (and the world didn't end).](https://archiveofourown.org/works/109915) by [sevendeadlyfun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevendeadlyfun/pseuds/sevendeadlyfun). 



“Those who sin are only buying an eternity of torment!” the priest promised. He was newly arrived from the Continent, and he stood on the altar and glared out at a congregation he barely knew like a parent disciplining wayward children that he'd found sulking in the alley. At ten years old, Liam knew the look well. Though he wanted very much to not understand the threats, Liam's tutor had finally succeeded in drilling enough Latin into his skull for the pertinent phrases to stick. He squirmed as the priest began enumerating all the dangers that lay between them and Heaven.

“Gluttony!” the priest shouted. His sweeping gaze landed for a judgmental moment on Mr. Harris; the innkeeper's thick chest and thicker stomach set him apart from the rest of the town's folks, most of whom had little coin to spare on any but the most basic foodstuffs.

“Sloth!” Now to Mrs. Murphy, formerly the cook for the Duke until she outlived her usefulness. She sat on her pew with a handkerchief over her mouth. At the priest's attention, a series of loud, racking coughs were ripped from her body. She turned away, hiding her face in shame even while she fought to contain the coughing.

The rock covered floors pressed hard on Liam's knees and rivulets of sweat trickled long paths down his back and sides. He longed for Mass to be over so that he could catch a breath of anything other than the still, stale air that pressed around him. His father, a stern, humorless man, shot him a glance that promised a whipping if Liam did not sit still and comport himself properly. Liam tightened his hands together in pretense of prayer and hid his grimace of anger in their clutch.

“Pride!” The gaze targeted his family next. From the corner of his eye, he saw his father straighten up and glare defiantly back. This standoff had existed between the two men ever since Liam's father had refused the request to donate to the new cemetery on the grounds that burying four of his children in it was donation enough.

“LUST!”

Liam's ears perked up at that word and he peeked out to see who was guilty of this one. The priest's face had gone red and he looked to be shaking inside the layers of robes he wore. His accusation seemed to be meant for everyone, though Liam couldn't understand why. A baby started to cry, its thin wails underscoring the tension in the church.

For the rest of Mass, Liam's mouth delivered the ritual responses and his body went through the ritual motions, but his mind noticed nothing of the ritual. His thoughts were a whirl trying to make sense of how his friends and neighbors, people who sacrificed so much just to get by, could be still be so flawed. Was it even possible to get into Heaven, he wondered, or was the promised peace after life merely a carrot on a stick?

After Mass, he milled around in the yard with the other children while the adults talked business. The yard was dry and dusty, the grass dead and yellowed from a long drought, so everyone moved around carefully to keep their clothes from getting dirtied. In the sombre mood no one dared to raise their voice above a whisper. Liam caught on to what they were doing and why, and started deliberately scuffing his shoes in the dirt. He watched the way the dust puffed up around his feet and swirled off in the faintest of breezes. That he was traveling away from the group never occurred to him, and if anyone saw him leaving, no one tried to call him back.

He was caught completely off-guard when a hand grabbed his sleeve and yanked him behind a wall. He looked up to see Mary Kathleen grinning at him. Her blonde hair was braided and tied back and her dress was yellow and new-looking. She was fourteen, engaged to the butcher, and of such ample endowments that Liam's mother had made him swear that he would never stoop to low conversation with her. He didn't quite know what that meant, but coming nose-to-bosom with her made him doubt that he wanted to have any kind of conversation at all. Though he was only ten, he was already filling out in the shoulders and tall enough that most people mistook him for a boy several years older, which meant that generally people expected more of him than they should. Like now.

“Well, look at the fish I caught,” she said. She eyed him up and down as if to assess whether or not to throw him back immediately. Whatever she was looking for, she must have found.

“I'm not a fish,” Liam protested, but he was too busy watching the way she chewed on her lower lip to put forth more than minor indignation. He'd known Mary Kathleen his whole life, though they weren't exactly friends. They went to church together and her family used to sit in the pew behind his until her father became a deacon.

For years their relationship consisted of her poking the back of his neck and flicking his ears anytime she could reach them. When he turned on her, she'd smile like the innocent angel she'd fooled people into believing her to be, and he, invariably, got into trouble. One time—one time only—he asked her why she bothered him. After a moment's thought, she answered, “You're not like the rest of them. You have the Devil's own twinkle in your eyes.”

It wasn't his eyes she was interested in now. “Then why is your mouth agape?” she asked. She sucked her cheeks in and puckered her lips in mockery of his open-mouthed stare. Then she giggled, and Liam felt a twinge of embarrassment that she was laughing at him, until she leaned over and planted those lips on his.

They were warm and kind of dry, and he wasn't sure what she was doing or what he was supposed to do. The only time he'd ever seen anyone kiss was weddings, and that was always brief and ceremonial. But a person didn't grow up around livestock or adults who produced a new baby every year without understanding a few things.

He pulled back and ducked his head. His cheeks were warm; his stomach fluttered. “Isn't this a sin?”

Mary Kathleen giggled again. “Only if you feel guilty.” She sounded so confident that Liam had no choice but to believe her. “That's what Confession's for. It wipes your slate clean so that you don't have to feel guilty anymore.”

Liam thought about the slate he used in his lessons and how no matter how much he wiped it clean, chalk still smudged its surface.

“And if you don't feel guilty, then it doesn't matter what you do,” she added. She tucked a finger under his chin and tilted his head up. Then, once again, she leaned in and her lips found his.

It was nice, he decided after a second. He could see why kissing wasn't common practice, but he wouldn't object to doing it again. Then Mary Kathleen's mouth parted, her tongue found his, and suddenly his body was sending signals unlike any he'd ever felt before. He pulled her closer and ground his hips into her thigh. He tried to keep up with her, tried to take the lead, and found that she knew more than he could have imagined there was to know. The heat within him drew out a groan like from the blacksmith's bellows. Tension built higher with each nibble and press of flesh-against-flesh until he was sure he was going to crack apart.

She stepped away. Her lips were red and swollen, and now her blue eyes sparkled with the Devil's own twinkle. “That's enough for today. You'd better get back before somebody notices that you're missing.”

Liam panted at her, one hand half-reaching to draw her back. He didn't know what he was missing, but he knew he wanted it; he needed to keep going until he found it. If this was lust, then he could see why people gave into it.

Without another word, Mary Kathleen turned and skipped away. Her step was light, without the least bit of concern for what they'd done or how she left him.

And, oddly, Liam didn't mind. The frustration he felt was far over-powered with a simple, strong happiness from the touch that Mary Kathleen had shared with him. And he decided that she was right: that kind of feeling couldn't be a sin if it came without guilt.

The priest had made it clear that Liam was going to hell anyway. If he was buying an eternity of torment, then he'd just have to make sure that he enjoyed every second leading up to it.


End file.
